For your wedding day
The trouble with divorce is the separation; the awkward splitting of lives, like an incision made by a doctor who cheated their way through medical school.
The dividing of items to be put in two piles instead of one; the decision of which child is to be placed in what pile along with the furniture, the cars, the money. A child that has begun to learn that more than one complicated life exists.
The trouble with waiting for normalcy is the anticipation. The seemingly slow, irritating minutes, days, weeks, months that pass by without so much as a whisper of reassurance. The trouble with anticipation is the unfailing hope; the unavoidable butterflies that dance in your stomach as the demons await somewhere darker; waiting to be released when you finally lose all sense of that hope.
The trouble with starting over is learning how to begin the story. Beginning to write the first paragraph that defines the years of a new and improved you. The old person is gone, and now a more complete person has arrived, waiting to jump out of bed and face reality once again. But the trouble with facing reality is realizing that you are mortal, that you are allowing yourself to be wounded once again, all for the slightest hope that you will find another person who has been hiding too.
When my mother told me that she had found someone new, I was apprehensive. No, he couldn’t be “the one” … he does not know what she has been through, how many tears she has cried, how many promises have been made yet broken. He couldn’t possibly learn to love her as well as her children, could he?
The trouble with letting someone new into your personal life is fear of trusting that person with certain valuables; your family, your secrets, your dreams, your heart. But what I could not have predicted, what I could not have possibly foreseen, was that the man whom my mother found, gave her and her family what she has always wanted; more love and devotion than she could ever ask for in a lifetime.
She finally had that glow; that warmth that spreads throughout someone so easily when you know that they are in love, that they have found that person who completes them in the best way possible.
I saw it in him too, and it happened a lot quicker than I could have imagined. He was patient, kind and quiet. This is what my mother needed after all of this time. A time that she had spent by herself, letting the broken pieces slowly come back together again. But now he could help her.
The trouble with love is that is has too many forms, and because of this it can go unrecognized. My mother knew she had found the person she would love till the end of her time, and he knew he had found her.
Looking at her, looking at him, I see what separation, anticipation and starting over has done for them as well as our family.
A whole new beginning to something unknown yet completely wonderful, because the trouble with love is … it’s the glue that pieces a life back together again.